


this is home

by RJam9



Series: a hundred bad days make a hundred good stories [1]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: (for the doctor bc I self project), Angst, Bittersweet, Character Study, Fighting, Gen, Gender Neutral Pronouns, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, I love that tag, Inspired by Music, Memories, Nightmares, Non-Linear Narrative, Somewhat Canon-Complaint, Songfic, The Doctor (Doctor Who) Needs a Hug, a lot deeper than the show would ever go bc the BBC are cowards, again kinda of, but if you want it to be shippy go for it, i need to stop talking, i personally see the doctor as ace/aro, just to state again: the 13/dhawan!master is completely up to you, kinda of, one last thing, there are so many mentioned characters here lmao, we’re having fun with this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:27:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23563801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RJam9/pseuds/RJam9
Summary: The Doctor is okay. But they forget rule number one.The Doctor lies.///aka I tried to write 13s thought process throughout series 12. no one has a fun time.
Relationships: (if you squint) - Relationship, The Thirteenth Doctor / The Master (Dhawan), The Twelfth Doctor & Missy, Thirteenth Doctor & The Master (Dhawan), Thirteenth Doctor & Yasmin Khan & Graham O'Brien & Ryan Sinclair
Series: a hundred bad days make a hundred good stories [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1696375
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30





	this is home

**Author's Note:**

> ohhhh boy im sorry about this. expect you clicked on it too so ://
> 
> for the record, this is also kinda of old but im proud of it so here we go. 
> 
> cross-posted on Wattpad. title and lyrics from “This Is Home” by Cavetown.

_Often I am upset_

_That I cannot fall in love_

_But I guess_

_This avoids the stress of falling out of it_

Five planets in five days.

They can tell their Fam is weary — the lingering glances, the shared looks when they think their back is turned. The humans think they don't noice, but they do. And whenever it happens, they whisk their Fam off again before it becomes something more.

They give the bare minimum to their questions, just enough to quench their curiosity and keep themself in the dark. It's better this way, they tell themself.

When they finally drop them all off at home, after days and days of running, Yaz stays behind when the boys head out. She turns to them, and offers a smile. They don't deserve, but they take anyway.

"Would you like to stop by for some tea?"

They consider, and see no harm in it. They take one more thing they don't deserve.

Inside Yazs apartment, her family vacates to give them space. They're thankful, because they didn't have the heart to explain why their daughter/sisters face was plastered everywhere as a wanted fugitive.

Yaz set the tea down in front of them and they drink it. It's hot, burning their mouth, but they ignore the pain. They were good at that.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Yaz asked. Ever worried, ever kind. "I know it's been ... stressful. With the Master, and everything."

"Nothing I haven't faced before." They say with a smile. "My life is always stressful."

Yaz nods, as if she understands. She doesn't.

They take another sip of their drink, pushing aside the scalding heat currently giving their palms blisters.

Gallifrey flashes behind their eyelids whenever they blink. The taste of the tea has no flavour. The liquid goes cold.

_Are you tired of me yet?_

_I'm a little sick right now_

_But I swear_

_When I'm ready I will fly us out of here_

The dreams start again.

The Citadel burning. Screams of children and family and Daleks. The taste of ash in their mouth and cinders stuck in their hair. Their clothes feel heavy and itchy and it's too much. A barn, a button, a wolf.

The sky is falling.

They wake up.

The dreams had never really stopped, though. They had slowed, uneven and far apart, during their days at the University. Those days, they had Nardole and Bill and Missy to talk to whenever they needed a distraction. Bill didn't fully understand, but she helped. Nardole was okay, and Missy didn't ask questions.

Their Fam can't help. They don't know, can't know. Can't let the facade drop, because then everything — everyone — will come crashing down. They can't burden them with that. It wouldn't be decent to shove their problems onto humans who could barley comprehend them.

It feels like they're walking a wire, balanced delicately above the tipping point. One wrong step, a few snappish words, some loose ends and they'll slip, falling into the void. Falling like Gallifrey, burning —

The onus isn't on their Fam, it's on them.

Their past self told them to be kind. They're not gonna break their promise.

_I'll cut my hair_

_To make you stare_

_I'll hide my chest_

_And I'll figure out a way to get us out of here_

Earth. Of course is Earth.

Their home planet is already gone, so of course they have to watch their second home destroyed by their own people.

( _the rhythm of two hearts_. )

So once they ease their Fams worries, ignoring their own, and send them back home, they lead the TARDIS down a familiar path. When the old girl lands, they fly out of their ship into burned red grass.

Marmalade sky, clouded in smoke. They wondered how he did it. They wonder how he felt, destroying the place they use to play. Had he felt like they had, regretful and bitter and anguished? Or had he enjoyed it, hearing the cries of terror and sobs of despair?

Why. Why. Why would he do it? Missy, Missy could have never done it. She had been learning, she had been kind. They knew the Master — no matter what the incarnation — was messed up in the head. That was all Rassilons fault.

( _one-two-three-four_ )

But she had been healing. They had worked together, rebuilt their screwed up relationship. But then her past self came back, the (arguably) most traumatized one, and she feel back on her old habits to no fault her own.

This is their fault. If they had tried harder, harder to convince her, harder to help her, maybe this couldn't have happened. They made an error and paid for it in the lives of other people they had just saved.

They sit in the aftermath of their mistakes and cry.

_Turn off your porcelain face_

_I can't really think right now in this place_

_There's too many colours_

_Enough to drive all of us insane_

Meeting Tesla is a thankful, welcome, break. Even the Skithra is down lower of the totem pole of villains they've faced these past few weeks.

( _queen of nothing. king of okay._ )

But then they meet an incarnation of themself they can't even remember, and Jack comes crashing into their life again. They don't know if it's cruel that they don't want to see him, push him away. They decide it's not, right? They're trying to move on from their past, and Jack won't help by bringing all up again.

But there's other Timelords again. And the issue of Ruth, a self that they don't know and who doesn't know them. Time is swirling around them, they can taste it on their tongue like charred tea. Everything is wrong.

They're trying to move on. Nobody is helping.

( _contact. please_ )

Their eyes are dry and body tired. They haven't slept for weeks, the nightmares so bad. They haven't ate anything, ether. It all tastes the same.

It's fine. Everything is fine.

( _rule number one; the doctor lies_ )

_Are you dead?_

_Sometimes I think I'm dead_

_Cause I can feel ghosts and ghouls wrapping my head_

_But I don't wanna fall asleep just yet_

They dream of blackness.

They're in the barn, and a monster hides under the bed. The shadows giggle in the voice of forgotten children as they lunge for them, grabbing their ankles, haunting their brain —

They're in a broken city, ruins crumbled around them. Faintly, they hear the cries of children torn from their parents and lovers holding their partners dead bodies. The sky is choked with smoke, and the worst part is probably the noise —

They're in the desert, a bag slung over their shoulder. The bag carries the most dangerous weapon in the universe, but little does it know it's in the hands of the mostmaddest, dangerous being, because they have no fear —

They're holding their hand of the button, the laughter of a children ringing in their ears. The big bad wolf is watching them, stalking them, waiting —

They're staring at the Daleks —

They're staring at the Angels —

They're staring at the Judoon —

They're staring at Missy —

They're standing in the ruins of great city, crumbling. Ash still floats in the air and it clogs their throat. The only sound is the wailing of the wind, and the worst part is probably the silence —

When they wake up, their hearts are hammering widely and cheeks stained with tears. Someone touches their shoulder, gently, but the brief amount of contact burned and they shift away.

"Doctor, Doctor!" They come into awareness at the sound of their name. Graham is staring at them, eyes wide with concern. "It's okay, we're here."

They notice Yaz and Ryan, flanking Graham. They shake their head, and when they speak, their voice is rough like it's coated in cinders. "Go away."

_My eyes went dark_

_I don't know where_

_My pupils are_

_But I'll figure out a way to get us out of here_

Why is it always up to them to make impossible choices?

( _save the poet, save the universe._ )

They snap at their companions, because that's the only thing they can do. Time in is flux, never set in stone, and one wrong move and they'll fall off the wire. Little do they know they've fallen a long time ago.

The humans like to act like they have a say in it, like their voices matter in the chaos of their brain, but they don't. Not right here, anyway, because they're left with an impossible choice. But as soon as they point out the obvious, that they'll die too, they back off because they're scared.

But they face fear every day. Every single day, in their mind and behind their eyelids. They snap at their humans because they can't do anything else. Because they don't know what happened in that barn. They don't know what happened with that button, or with that wolf.

They don't know what happened with Rose, with Donna, with Amy and Rory, with Clara, with Bill. They don't know happened with Missy. They don't know what happened to Gallifrey. They argue 'one life for billions' but time is never kind enough for that to work.

( _watch people burn now or tomorrow_. )

The Lone Cybermen stood in front of them, one good eye blinking. The Cyberium glowed brightly in the air above, twisting and turning like quicksilver. Though unseen and unfelt by anyone other than themself, time weaved in between the floorboards and settled in the space between their hearts.

"Don't give it what it wants." Jack had told them. Well, where as Jack now? He had left them to make the impossible. Their Fam had left them to make the impossible. Everyone always stepped back for them to make the impossible.

They haven't slept for weeks. Whenever they close their eyes, Gallifrey has burned.

The Cyberium entered the Lone Cybermen. There's no sound when it happens, other then the rumbling of the house, but they hear the voices of Gallifreys people screaming in their ears. Slowly, it morphs to the humans of Earth.

Left alone on the summit to make an impossible choice.

( _sometimes, even i can't win._ )

_Get a load of this monster_

_He doesn't know how to communicate_

_His mind is in a different place_

_Will everybody please give him a little bit of space_

When they sit with their Fam in the console room, they can't make eye contact. The amount of trust and worry in their eyes is too much to bear. It's misplaced, all of it, and it makes them bite their tongue until it bleeds.

"We're gonna save it, right, Doc?" Graham says. "Save the Earth, beat the Cybermen."

"Defeat the villain, like we alway do." Yaz adds. They look at her, with so much faith that'll she fix everything. Swoop down like a superhero and save the day.

They want to snap at them, tell them 'no, not always'. Tell them about their dreams and nightmares and the way they can't seem to feel their own body sometimes. Gallifrey has burned again and the tea tastes like dust.

( _one-two-three-four_ )

But they can't seem to find their voice. All they anger has fizzled out, faded into a flicker. When they open their mouth to speak, false comfort comes out. The humans have seemed to have forgiven them for their early argument — they don't deserve forgiveness.

Stated for now, their companions head off to prepare themselves for the oncoming fight. They lean against the console and expand their mind, searching.

( _contact_. )

Like always, he doesn't answer.

_Get a load of this trainwreck_

_His hair's a mess and he doesn't know who he is yet_

_But little do we know the stars welcome him with open arms_

All the rage that they thought had died suddenly exploded like a supernova. At who, they didn't know. The Master, the Timelords, their 'mother', themself for being the very thing that caused him to destroy their planet in the first place.

All that rage, and he's not scared of them. He knows them too well.

"Show me the rest!" They cry, angry, bitter, scared. "I have a right to know my own life!"

He gets up from the grass, from where they had pushed him. His eyes show hatred but they know him well, to. That hatred hides fear and doubt and ugly emotions that he doesn't know what to do with so he places them on them instead. It's how their relationship alway worked.

He wanted to show they weren't so different. They wanted their friend back. Now, apparently, that could never happen because of something they couldn't control. Because of something that had happened ( _thousands? billions? how old are they, really?_ ) years ago, of something they couldn't even remember.

"All right." He says, frowning. If they looks closely, they could sense a hint of something ( _sadness? was it sadness?_ ) hiding underneath "But I'm not sure it's going to make you happy."

_Time is_

They show him the death particle. He only grins like a little kid on Christmas.

"Oh, good, very good. That's why I left it for you. Wondered if you would take out me, take out these lifeforms, all those bodies still in the vaults, every organic cellular life form on this planet ... forever. And yourself. Do that, would you?"

"Yes." They mutter. Their mind was still full of memories and emotions, and they flashed back to the Daleks. "This time, yes."

Their finger hovers over the detonation button. It's trembling, just like his hand was when he offered it to them a mere few hours before. They flashed back to years ago, bodies ago, standing in the desert faced with an impossible choice.

( _coward. any day._ )

They can't do it. Can't kill him. Just like he never kills them, whenever he had the chance. They're like two stars in orbit, forever circling and tugging on each others gravity, but never intersecting in fear of what will happen.

He just as part of them like their memories use to be.

They startled when Ko Sharmus butted in, a human who had given up their chance at freedom so others could escape, all filled with guilt and loneliness. They can relate.

He takes the death particle from them, rambling about it all being his fault. It wasn't, not really, but they don't have time to persuade him not to press the button. In a moment, he tells them to go. And the Master, their oldest friend, just stands there with pleading eyes. Pleading for what, they don't know. Forgiveness, maybe. Or acceptance.

They had forgiven him a long time ago. Accepting him was a bit harder. The drumbeats, planted there back during childhood, the betrayals. Once upon a time they would have taken him at face value. After Missy, they know there's a hint of kindness, hidden in the melody of his mind.

They don't voice any of those thoughts aloud. They never do.

They only run.

Run. Run like they always do because they can't face the fear behind their eyelids.

_Slowly_

He's gone. Gone again.

Last of the Timelords but simultaneously all of them, all at once.

In a TARDIS not their own, alone once again, they let themself shed a few tears. They know he probably isn't dead, he had been in worse situations before and came out unscathed. Stars, he once even died and came back to life.

The tears aren't for him. There for themself, for the lives they can't remember, the faces hidden in their memories. Their hands grip the console so hard they turn white, and they think of their Fam, stranded back in their own time waiting on them to swoop down and take them back to see the universe.

( _the universe is waiting . . ._ )

But right now they can't bear the stress of having someone in their care. They think of the barn, think of the big bad wolf, think of their nightmares and the ghosts haunting their head.

_Tracing his face_

Maybe, one day, the tea will have flavour again. They can blink without seeing the death of their people. They'll sleep because they can dream and eat because they can taste.

One day, they'll balance perfectly on that wire.

Not today.

( _contact?_ )

_But strangely he feels at home in this place._

**Author's Note:**

> criticism is greatly appreciated bc my writing sucks. thanks for reading tho
> 
> (side note: I have some other fics similar to this one that im gonna post soon. they’re very loosely connected and angsty so uh. yay?)


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